


easy does it

by robokittens



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: Jonny tips his head forward, rests it against Patrick's shoulder. "You got this, baby," he whispers. "You can take this; you were made for it. Made for me." It doesn't even feel like dirty talk, just like the truth, as he pushes forward, centimetre by centimetre.





	easy does it

**Author's Note:**

> hockey gave me some feelings so i ... did some porn at them? written on my phone, in bed and on public transit, in about a day and a half.
> 
> thank you as always to reserve, and to seducerhymeswithdeduce, and to thundersquall, for whom it occurs to me it was probably the middle of the afternoon when i messaged her frantically in the middle of the night my time like "just the tip!!!!"
> 
> i swear that 1712 fic is coming soon, y'all.
> 
> dubcon info in the end notes

He's got Patrick shoved up face-first against the wall of the hotel room, their forearms pressed together, Jonny's hands bracketing Patrick's desperate fists. He buries his nose in the sweat-damp curls on the back of Patrick's neck.

Patrick's skin tastes like sweat, too, when Jonny opens his mouth. "You want it?" he says. His voice curves up at the end but it's not a question, not really.

"Jonny," Patrick grits out. It's not an answer, except for how it is.

Jonny doesn't have to pull back far to get his pants undone, shove his slacks and his underwear down around his ankles, and he pulls Patrick tight back against him so he can reach around and unfasten his pants, too. Patrick makes a soft, high sound when Jonny peels his boxer briefs down, his forehead tipped against the wall, his back arched.

"That's right," Jonny says. He drags a hand down Patrick's spine, watches the way he shivers. "You want it bad, don't you?"

Patrick doesn't say anything, just clenches his fists tighter against the wall, presses his ass back against Jonny. Jonny's been simmering on the edge of arousal for a while now, but being flush up against Patrick like this has him rock hard, foreskin already starting to pull back.

They'd taken their jackets off, Jonny had gotten rid of his tie, but that's as far as they'd made it before Jonny had given up his last semblance of control, manhandled Patrick into position. There's something about the way that the hem of Patrick's shirt can't quite cover the swell of his bare ass that's getting to him now. He pushes forward, his cock sliding along the crease of Patrick's ass, and listens to Patrick's choked-off gasp.

"That's right," he says again, voice low. He moves again, his cock nestled tight between Patrick's cheeks. "God, look at you."

He keeps moving, slow and steady. He's pressed so close against Patrick that he barely has room to move, hips sliding against Patrick's ass. Patrick's dress shirt is all rucked up between them now, not covering anything at all.

Jonny presses forward again, covers Patrick's whole body with his own. There's nothing really small about Patrick — broad shoulders, strong hands, big dick — but sometimes Jonny can just blanket him. It's good, for him; from the shuddery sound that Patrick makes, it's good for him too.

"You want me to fuck you?" he murmurs, right in Patrick's ear. 

Patrick turns his head, opens his mouth like he's gonna say something. He doesn't, though, just breathes out harshly over Jonny's face. Jonny nudges their noses together, then their mouths; it's not quite a kiss, the way they move against each other, but it's close. Patrick's mouth is full and slack beneath Jonny's.

Jonny hums appreciatively, a quiet little _mmhmm_ right into Patrick's mouth, and thrusts forward again. The head of his cock catches on Patrick's rim and Patrick shivers with his whole body, bites down on Jonny's lip.

Jonny pulls his face away reluctantly, doesn't want to move away from the lushness of Patrick's mouth. But he can't talk like that, when he's breathing all of Patrick's air, when he's distracted by the way Patrick's lips push full and red against his own.

And he wants — needs — to talk right now, to tell Patrick how good he looks, how good he feels. How good he _is_.

"You want it so bad," he says. He can hear how rough his own voice is already. "Look at you. You're so desperate for it."

"Jonny," Patrick says, whimpers almost, his tone proving Jonny right. His eyes slip shut, head tilting against the wall again. He shoves his ass back against Jonny's dick, inelegant, and Jonny grabs at his hips.

"Steady," he cautions. He pushes forward, forward, takes one step and then another until Patrick is right up against the wall. No way to move, nowhere for him to go when Jonny thrusts up against him again.

"So needy," he says. He puts one hand on the small of Patrick's back when he leans back a little, just far enough to watch the slide of his dick between Patrick's cheeks. Jonny's practically leaking precome at this point, leaving a slick trail up Patrick's ass, but it's still a little rough.

He slaps Patrick's ass. Not hard: just enough to make him moan a little, just enough to make his ass clench around Jonny's dick. He rubs up against Patrick's hole again.

"You want me," Jonny says. He pushes forward again, with his cock, with his whole body, buries his face in the crook of Patrick's neck. "Your body wants me, wants me in you. Doesn't it? So needy."

"Yeah." Patrick moans again. "Yeah, Jonny, need you, _please_."

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks, rhetorical, voice sure and even. "You do. You want me just like this. Dry, up against the wall."

Patrick groans out his name. Jonny kisses the back of his neck, licks up the sweat beaded at his collar, fucks up against him until Patrick cries out.

"You think you can take it like this?" he asks. Patrick shakes his head, desperate; Jonny gets a mouthful of curls. He grinds his hips forward, as if he could press closer. "You want it, though. Just like this. You need it so bad."

"Jonny," Patrick says, and it's almost a protest, sounds like one, _would_ sound like one if he weren't pushing back against Jonny as best he can with Jonny draped over him like this.

"You want it like this," Jonny says again. "You need it, Pat? Need me? Need my dick?"

He pulls back just far enough to adjust his angle, presses back in between Patrick's cheeks slow and sure, like he's gonna fuck him for real. Patrick cries out, on the edge of too loud but Jonny doesn't stop him, too busy watching the way Patrick's hole opens up for the insistent press of his cock. It's not enough, not enough to actually let Jonny in, but —

His dick pulses out another spurt of precome and he pushes in, just a little further. It's still not enough to soothe the way, not really.

"You like that, Patty?" he says. He's distracted, watching the way Patrick's body tries to, _wants to_ open up for him. Wants to take him inside.

"Jonny," Patrick says, open and needy, and Jonny can't quite tell what he's pleading for. "Jonny you — I — I _can't_ , Jonny, please."

"You can," Jonny says, quiet, intent. His cock is so flushed against the pale skin of Patrick's ass, even the dusky color right where he's almost inside him. "You can, baby."

"I don't — _Jonny_." He shivers, pushes back against Jonny. Not pushing him away. He moves into it when Jonny gets both hands on his ass, spreading him open so he can see better. 

"That's right," Jonny murmurs. He lets go of Patrick's ass with one hand, smooths it over the soft skin there before wrapping it around his own cock. It's not as good as being squeezed between the curves of Patrick's ass, not as good as being inside him, but he's getting close enough now that it doesn't matter.

He jacks himself slowly, still pressed right up against Patrick, right up against his hole. More precome spurts out, glistening on Patrick's skin. They're both breathing loud and jagged in the quiet of the room.

Jonny tips his head forward, rests it against Patrick's shoulder. "You got this, baby," he whispers. "You can take this; you were made for it. Made for me." It doesn't even feel like dirty talk, just like the truth, as he pushes forward, centimetre by centimetre.

Patrick makes a choked-off sound; Jonny can feel him shiver everywhere they're touching. "That's right," he says, quiet. He mouths at Patrick's shoulder blade, bites down, too soft and open-mouthed to leave a mark even if Patrick's shirt weren't in the way. It makes Patrick whimper again anyway.

Jonny rocks his hips forward, just a little, not enough to push him any further into Patrick but enough that he can feel it, that they can _both_ feel it.

"So perfect," Jonny says. He shifts so he can mouth at Patrick's jaw, lick up the tears that have tracked silently down his cheeks.

"Yours," Patrick says, unprompted, desperate, breath hot on Jonny's face. "Yours, Jonny."

"That's right. You are," he says, and kisses Patrick again. Patrick's mouth is wet and needy against his, opening for him much more easily than his sweet little hole does. Jonny pushes his way inside Patrick's mouth anyway, demanding.

Patrick clenches around him, pulling Jonny just a little deeper, and he moans into Jonny's mouth. Jonny pulls back slowly, still kissing Patrick softly, sucking on his lower lip.

"Want me so bad," he murmurs against Patrick's mouth. "Look at you, opening up for me."

"Can't," Patrick protests weakly. His eyes are still shut tight; his cheek is red where he's pressed it up against the wall, rubbed it against the textured wallpaper. "Jonny, I —"

"But you are." Jonny reaches up, smoothes Patrick's damp hair off his forehead. 

He presses one more light kiss to Patrick's lips and leans back, far enough that he can look at all the places they're still touching. Patrick's rim is red where it's stretched around him, where it's trying to suck him in. Jonny traces a finger along it, along the head of his own dick where it hasn't quite disappeared inside, and Patrick groans loudly again.

"Good, baby." Jonny's own voice is a counterpoint, low and steady. He uses one hand to spread Patrick open again, as best he can; he wraps his other hand back around his cock. He's not sunk deep enough inside Patrick to stay there when he finally starts to jack himself off, but that doesn't matter for long; the hot little twitch of Patrick's hole, still greedy for Jonny's cock, is all it takes to send him over the edge. The first sight of his come on Patrick's ass, the broken moan he lets out, is enough to get Jonny the rest of the way there. 

"God," Jonny says, for the first time hearing the desperate edge to his own voice. " _Patrick_."

When his eyes flick up to Patrick's face he can see Patrick's mouth is open, his eyes damp and glassy, lashes heavy with tears; his cheek is still shoved up against the wall. It's almost instinctive for Jonny to run his first two fingers through the come dripping down Patrick's ass, scoop some up and bring it to Patrick's mouth.

Patrick's breath is hot on his hand; his tongue is hot as he licks along Jonny's fingers before his mouth closes around them, sucking greedily. Jonny moans, this time. He leans in, drapes himself over Patrick again, his face in Patrick's hair, his cock going soft nestled between Patrick's cheeks.

They stay like that for a while, breathing heavily, Jonny's fingers still hooked loosely in Patrick's mouth.

When Jonny finally moves again he brings Patrick with him, tugging him close and pulling him off the wall. They don't go far; Jonny is still steady enough on his feet to stand upright, although Patrick sways a little bit against him. Their pants are still around their ankles.

Jonny kisses the crown of Patrick's head, pulls his fingers out of the warm suction of Patrick's mouth. "What do you need, baby?" he whispers into Patrick's hair. Patrick doesn't say anything, just presses himself tighter against Jonny's body and makes a soft sound low in his throat.

He still has one arm wrapped around Patrick's chest, holding him close, but when he brings the hand still damp with Patrick's saliva to wrap around his cock, Patrick shivers in his grasp, oversensitive. He's not hard; his shirt front is damp.

"Really?" Jonny says. He's coming back to himself, can't quite keep the teasing tone from his voice. He flicks his thumbnail over the head of Patrick's cock, just to hear him whine, then lets his hand drop to Patrick's thigh.

"Shut up," Patrick mumbles. He twists in Jonny's grip, shuffling his feet until they're pressed together again facing each other. His eyes are still dark and intense, red-rimmed; they slip shut as his hands press against the small of Jonny's back, sliding up under his shirt. He tips his head up and Jonny obliges him, brings their mouths together and kisses him soft but thorough.

"Let's go to bed," Patrick whispers, his mouth against Jonny's jaw. They'll have to move in a moment, shower maybe, definitely get their clothes all the way off. But right now, Patrick tucked up against him like this, this is nice.

"Of course," Jonny says. He kisses Patrick again, still softly, full of promise. "Whatever you want."

**Author's Note:**

> dubcon info: patrick never actually says no, but he does make some protest-y noises while simultaneously being clearly into it physically. maybe they have a safeword he's not using! who knows!


End file.
